


Inventory

by NB_Cecil



Series: No Privacy on a Space Station [4]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A+ Parenting, And Garak Actually Listens!, Awkward Conversations, Bashir Asserts His Boundaries, Bashir’s Risa Outfit is a Thing of Horror, Boundary Negotiation, Cardassian culture is different from Human culture, Caring!Garak, Caring!Julian, Conflict, Conflict Resolution, Domestic Fluff, Eating Together, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Garak is caring in his own fucked-up way, Garak’s trauma responses are... problematic to say the least, Is garak going to FINALLY learn to use the door chime?, It’s really not ok to covertly surveil your friends Garak!, M/M, Obsidian Order Habits Die Hard, Or maybe Tain just gaslit Garak about how everyone surveils their friends & family, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Love, Platonic Relationships, Racquetball, Spy!Garak, Surveillance!Garak, Tain is a terrible parent, Tain’s A+ Parenting, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 11:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18409625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/pseuds/NB_Cecil
Summary: Some misplaced racquetball equipment promotes a discussion between Bashir and Garak about their differing attitudes towards the covert surveillance of one’s friends, and Bashir sets some boundaries Garak agrees to respect. Featuring a bonus cameo from Bashir’s Risa outfit trousers.***CW: Brief reference to implied past abuse and gaslighting.***





	Inventory

“What are you looking for, my dear?”

“Garak!” Bashir wriggled out from where he’d been groping under the bed, narrowly avoiding hitting his head. “When are you going to learn to use the chime?”

“You should take more notice of your surroundings, Doctor,” Garak chided, “I could have crept up on you and stabbed you.”

“Is that what you came here to do?” 

“No, I came here to invite you to lunch at the Replimat.”

“I’m busy, Garak.”

“I can see that.” Garak lowered himself to the floor beside his friend. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“Only if you know where my spare racquet is.” 

“The nillimite alloy one?” Garak smiled toothlessly, “It’s in the wardrobe, behind those hideous orange pants. Back right, if my memory serves correctly.” Bashir stared at the Cardassian incredulously. “Take a look.”

Bashir rose from the floor and made for the wardrobe. He thrust a hand between layers of garishly-printed fabric and felt around until his fingers closed around a metal handle. Garak peered over his shoulder as he pulled out the misplaced racquet.

“So, you _have_ been snooping through my things!” Bashir rounded on him.

“No, Doctor,” Garak corrected, “I take a full inventory once a month, where I catalogue each item and its exact location.”

“ _Garak_ ,” Bashir dropped the racquet to the floor and threw up his hands in exasperation, “That’s a gross invasion of my privacy.”

“Really dear, don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Garak placed a conciliatory hand on Bashir’s forearm. “On Cardassia we regularly make convert examinations of our friends’ and families’ belongings. We don’t acknowledge it openly, of course—that would be vulgar—but it’s our way of looking out for our dearest loved-ones. If a person objects, they simply place some booby-traps among their possessions.”

Bashir sighed, fisting a hand in his hair. “This is a Bajoran space station, not Cardassia,” He said, taking Garak’s elbow and guiding him toward the living area and the couch. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

Garak snorted derisively, but sat on the couch nonetheless, and waited while the Human fetched two glasses of tea from the replicator.

“Tell me about this inventory, then.” Bashir prompted as he sat down beside his friend.

“Well, as I said,” Garak waved a hand airily, “Once a month, I let myself into your quarters, examine every item, cataloging its precise condition and location. Then I return everything to the exact position I found it in and let myself out again.”

“And where am I while you’re doing this?” Bashir asked.

“Oh, in a holosuite with Chief O’Brien or in the Infirmary,“ Garak paused to sip his tea, “Last month you went to that medical conference, which gave me a whole week to complete my inventory.”

“At least you don’t do it while I’m asleep.” 

“Gosh, no!” Garak gave his companion a horrified look. “That would be incredibly rude! If you were to awake while I was in the middle of my task the ensuing conversation would be extremely awkward.”

“Not unlike the conversation we’re having now.” 

“Indeed.” Garak replied, studiously avoiding eye-contact by staring intently into his tea.

“You said on Cardassia this is how you look out for people you care about?” Bashir prompted.

Garak nodded.

“Look.” Bashir kept his tone as gentle as he could. “Finding out you’ve been going through my things while I’m out feels like a huge violation of my trust and privacy, but I can see this is a way of showing me you care—albeit a perverse one.”

“It is, and I do.” Garak confirmed, tears welling up and threatening to spill down his face. “I didn’t mean to-to—“ He stuttered, “—to violate your trust.”

“It’s ok, Garak.” Bashir soothed, putting an arm round his friend’s shoulders. “Well, not it’s not ok at all actually,” He corrected himself, “But we’re talking about it now and we’re going to make it ok.”

Garak sniffled and nodded.

“Is this a thing all Cardassians do?”

“Yes... No...” Garak hesitated. “I don’t know. I grew up in the head of the Obsidian Order’s household; I was led to believe it’s just something everyone does.”

Bashir’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You lived with Tain?” He asked.

“Yes, and I knew better than to say ‘no’ when he wanted to examine my belongings.”

Bashir sighed and chugged a mouthful of tea. “How would you feel about stopping these monthly inventories?”

A panicked expression crossed Garak’s face. “It would worry me.” He confessed.

“Why?” Bashir probed.

“Because I wouldn’t know things about you.”

Bashir pressed his face to the top of Garak’s head. “Like what?” He asked, into his friend’s hair.

“Like, if you’re ok or not.” Garak offered, “If you suddenly throw things out after they’ve been lying around for months, that tells me you’re trying to exert some control over your life; or if you stop laundering your clothes, I know you’re feeling down.”

“Oh Garak,” Bashir sighed, “That’s really rather sweet in a terrifying way.”

Garak sat up, pulling away from his companion. “Don’t make me stop, please.” He implored.

Bashir finished his tea in silence while he thought through his options. Setting his glass down, he asked, “Can we make these inventories together in future, please?”

“Really?” Garak turned to beam at him. “I thought you were going to tell me never to enter your quarters again.”

“No,” Bashir placed a gentle hand on the back of the Cardassian’s head and pressed their foreheads together, “But I really need you to ring the chime, ok? And if I’m not in you can ask the Computer where I am and come and find me. No more letting yourself in. You have to promise.”

“Alright,” Garak conceded and pressed a brief kiss to Bashir’s lips.

Bashir stood up. “Now, how about I fetch us some lunch, then you can show me your latest list of my belongings?”

“I thought you said you were busy.” Garak needled.

“Yes,” Bashir exhaled deeply as he typed codes into the replicator, “I was going to get in an hour’s practice in the holosuite ahead of tomorrow’s game with Major Kira.”

“I’m sorry dear.” Garak apologised.

“Don’t be. This was important.”

____

 

“There are _seven_ socks under my bed?” Bashir asked incredulously, head bent over the padd.

“As of ten days ago, yes.” Garak replied, scrolling with his finger to reveal more columns on the spreadsheet. He pointed to a block of cells. “Four of them are torn and there’s only one pair.”

“I’m throwing them all out when we do the next inventory.” Bashir declared.

“Oh no, Doctor!” Garak turned to the Human, “Everything has to go back _precisely_ where we found it.”

“You mean I can’t tidy up as we go?” 

“Certainly not! It would invalidate the data.”

Bashir shook his head in resignation, set the padd down between two empty plates on the table, and—grinning—pulled his friend in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Now I’ve got Garak to FINALLY acknowledge and respect at least some of Bashir’s boundaries, the next instalment will probably play fast and loose with canon timeline, but who cares? This is my HC and I’ll do what I want ;P
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated and I enjoy reading what you have to say <3


End file.
